


Lariat

by poetica (TheFire_in_the_NightSky)



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Bodily Autonomy, Bottom Hawke (Dragon Age), Consent, Emotional Recovery, Emotional Sex, Fenris Zine piece, Getting Back Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 13:38:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20292352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFire_in_the_NightSky/pseuds/poetica
Summary: Perhaps it took one more night of melancholy to see that hehad,in fact, been building a future since the last time he gave Danarius the slip.  One more night of self-imposed loneliness for Fenris to take note of the patchwork family that had grown around him... despite his desire to throttle most of them on a good day.  Who he once was -Leto- did not fashion these new ties.  That former part of himself did not foster this new life, and it certainly did not earn the unwavering devotion of Marius Hawke.No,Fenrisdid this… all in spite of chains, tangible and metaphorical, that threatened to tether his existence for good.Here now, in this room ablaze with scarlets and golds, with the man with a fool’s-grin and a heart softer than down, Fenris realises he’s denied himself life, just as others had denied it of him for far too long.  He trusts that the caged flutter inside his chest can finally be held in the hands of another.  His walls are eggshell in Marius’s palms, waiting to be crushed, and Fenris no longer wants the burden of armour.





	Lariat

**Author's Note:**

> My fic for the Fenris zine, Na Via Lerno Victoria, which I had the absolute privilege of being a part of!  
Partially inspired by Alkaline Trio's "Blue in the Face" and "Still Life" by The Horrors.

A log pops and splits in the hearth. Marius jumps, nervous hands leaving their place at Fenris’s waist for a fraction of a second. Fenris chuckles at this– Marius Hawke, the man who’s been carrying a city’s worth of weight on his back for years, startled to a near-yelp by a piece of firewood. But that isn’t all it is, is it? Fenris’s own heart thrums inside his chest like hummingbirds’ wings; endorphins and adrenaline war within his body for reasons wholly different from nerves temporarily rattled.

Two days ago, he thought he’d be riding a high due to finally watching the life wink out of Danarius’s eyes with the clench of his fist. But it had not come. Fenris had instead felt the high end of low. Frayed threads of the past he’d been both following and eluding had finally wound themselves around his neck. It was too much, all at once. Danarius… _ Varania… _

But Marius had been at his back, a solid wall to dam the flood while Fenris damned his deepest torments to the Void.

While Fenris was contemplating the taste of revenge and the distant touch of memory in a dead man’s derelict mansion, Marius had stood vigilant as a shadow - a strange reversal of their natural camaraderie and companionship that had become a strong foundation in Fenris's life. For three years, Marius had waited - loyal and unconditional in his care and support. Marius was always waiting for Fenris to step from the questions of a past and realise a potential future, with or without him.

Perhaps it took one more night of melancholy to see that he _ had, _ in fact, been building a future since the last time he gave Danarius the slip. One more night of self-imposed loneliness for Fenris to take note of the patchwork family that had grown around him... despite his desire to throttle most of them on a good day. Who he once was _ \- Leto - _did not fashion these new ties. That former part of himself did not foster this new life, and it certainly did not earn the unwavering devotion of Marius Hawke.

No, _ Fenris _did this… all in spite of chains, tangible and metaphorical, that threatened to tether his existence for good.

Here now, in this room ablaze with scarlets and golds, with the man with a fool’s-grin and a heart softer than down, Fenris realises he’s denied himself life, just as others had denied it of him for far too long. He trusts that the caged flutter inside his chest can finally be held in the hands of another. His walls are eggshell in Marius’s palms, waiting to be crushed, and Fenris no longer wants the burden of armour.

Marius swallows audibly and lets out a nervous laugh, at once turning back into that awkward, callow twenty-something Fenris met nearly a decade ago.

And they’ve only gotten so far as removing one another’s tunics.

“Backing out on me?” Fenris asks with a smirk, and Marius’s grip on his waist tightens a little before his hands slide up to Fenris's ribs.

Bright, cerulean eyes widen._ “Me? _You’re mad. What makes you say that?” Marius brings a hand up through his flaxen hair, a gesture Fenris recognises for the endearing nervous tick that it is. A wayward curl spirals against Marius’s brow, and with a huff of breath, it’s loosed for mere seconds before gently landing back over his eye.

Fenris studies him with narrowed eyes. “You are… anxious.”

“Anxious- no! I mean, yes- but, for you. As in,” Marius stops and sighs. Fenris arches a brow at him. “What I mean to say is… Fenris,” He raises his hands to cup the sides of Fenris’s face and ducks his head to bring their foreheads together. “Fenris, having you back, _ like this, _is something I told myself I always needed to be prepared to give up one day.”

Fenris grips Marius’s wrists, thumbs brushing against hammering pulse points. “It’s something I forced you to give up,” he argues. “I should have told you so much then. I was a _ coward…” _

“No,” Marius whispers vehemently with a small shake of his head that nudges their noses together. He pulls back to look Fenris in the eye, hands still warm against his face. “Not a coward. _ Never that. _ Despite how things… ended up that night… I never gave up, and I don’t believe you did, either - judging by that old, tattered piece of my housecoat you wear around your wrist every waking hour.” Marius laughs with a flattering blush, surely mirroring Fenris's own. In the firelight, that bit of pink makes the faint freckles across the bridge of Marius’s nose stand out beautifully from his pale skin.

“We have time, Fenris,” Marius continues. “This may come as a shock, but I _ am _ a very patient man. It’s been a long time, yes. But, I’ll wait, as long as it takes for you to speak of what had you so haunted that night. Or stay by your side should you never choose to. And I… suppose I don’t blame you for leaving then, for it being too much, too hard - whatever it was. It isn’t my place to tell you what you should soldier through, what you shouldn’t run from. I'll always want you to do what you _ need _ to.” Fenris hugs him and feels an electrical spark run through his veins at the contact of their bare skin. It heats him and gnaws a tightness in his gut like he’d felt their first night together. But it is not like the cold burn of his markings, nor the scald of fear that never truly lessens in his mind. The embrace, the… _ touch _ \- it makes him feel both free and all too vulnerable.

With his cheek resting against Fenris’s head, Marius exhales, long and exhausted. “But, will you leave again? I’m sorry, I suppose… I’m aware it has to be hard to know what might… trigger something, but…” His voice trails off into Fenris’s hair; lips sticking to fine strands as they press a lingering kiss there.

Fenris has always lived by the old adage of letting actions speak when words are not quite enough, but he knows he cannot keep quiet any longer, even if the words he chooses do not feel sufficient to him for this particular situation or the emotions he is experiencing. He extracts himself from Marius’s arms and steps back, careful not to lose complete contact.

Fenris looks towards the fire, remembering the pain and regret in his heart the night he walked away from Marius. He can still picture the curve of Marius's spine as he slept curled towards Fenris’s residual body heat on the bed; recalls the dwindling warmth of the fire along his front as his gauntlets scraped and dug into the stone hearth while he mulled over phantom memories. 

Now, he looks back to Marius, head cocked thoughtfully. “Of all the memories, good and bad, that came to me unbidden three years ago… within dreams, within my waking thoughts… None have so haunted me as the memory of your touch. But it is the one vision, the one _ feeling _ I care to repeat ceaselessly in my mind. No,” Fenris shakes his head resolutely. He owns his bravery, tamps down ingrained anxieties. _ “I am done running.” _

Wilfully, he presses back into Marius’s embrace, seeking out the playful, taunting chase of his lips, tongue, and teeth; the press of that much adored wry grin against his own mouth goads him to take lead, lest he lose his prey. He is feeling every inch the vicious beast Danarius had him certain he was for so long, but now it is for an entirely different passion.

His fingers brush passed the seam of their mouths in motion, over dimples and laugh lines made apparent by Marius’s inability to ever take anything too seriously - least of all when he is lost in indulgence. Fenris’s lyrium-etched fingertips chafe against days-old, dark blond stubble, imprinting and collecting new muscle memory along the sharp line of Marius’s jaw.

They make their way towards the bed, and Fenris lies across soft crushed velvet with Marius crawling after him. Together, with their scars, their losses, and proof of fighting for their lives that is marked by the crimson stains soaked beneath the skin of their palms, Fenris and Marius are a perfect juxtaposition to the old luxury and prestige of the Hawke estate.

Marius pauses with his fingers hooked in the waistband of Fenris’s leggings. “We don’t have to do this, Fenris. If…”

Fenris runs his fingers along the shorn sides of Marius’s scalp and tilts his head up. “If it becomes too much, I will say so.”

Leaning back down with his mouth ghosting across Fenris’s throat, Marius whispers, _ “And I will listen.” _

Fenris coaxes Marius’s hands to continue their work of stripping him bare until his own fingers itch to finish divesting Marius of his leather trews.

The lit hearth being the only light in the room makes Fenris feel less exposed, and even less so when Marius, all sinewy muscle and long limbs, lays his weight over him. It isn’t their nudity that makes Fenris feel abashed, of course - this is certainly not new territory for the two of them, but Fenris cannot help the bit of squirming he does, knowing how every line of lyrium that weaves around his body glints in any lightsource. He kisses Marius deeply, pulling him closer; his shield from his own self-consciousness. They sigh into each other’s mouths in near-unison, but when Marius begins kissing along his jaw and moves to mouth at his clavicle, Fenris flinches involuntarily.

Immediately, Marius stops. “All right?” he asks, concerned already.

Fenris takes a deep breath through his nose and holds it a moment before speaking. “It is not you. I… am still unsure of how to feel about these,” He holds up a hand, turning it so the subtle blue of the lines tracing the bone structure of each finger catch the glow of nearby firelight. “about having you see the extent of it again.”

Marius takes his hand, kisses Fenris's palm. For things such as this, the pain is bearable; everywhere Marius’s body meets his own, the discomfort is only marginally louder than the constant echo of pain the markings cause him daily.

Marius places Fenris’s hand against his chest, then with his middle finger, he trails around the three dots of lyrium upon Fenris’s forehead. “Every part of you is _everything _to me. This is all yours, Fenris. Be whatever - whomever you want - not what _he _made you.” He traces down the bridge of Fenris’s nose, and further on to his lips.

_ “Remake me.” _ Fenris lifts his chin to nip at Marius’s fingertip before sliding his tongue over the digit, taking it into his mouth. He watches Marius’s eyes flutter shut as he sucks in a breath.

Short, breathless laughter bubbles up from Marius’s chest. A smile, boyish and soft and meant to reassure. Thumb caressing Fenris’s bottom lip. His teal eyes are lust-glazed when he opens them. “That’s all on you, but of course I’ll see what I can do to help. I am a _ gentleman, _ after all…” A shaky exhale. “as I’m… as I’m sure you’re well aware.” He is rambling and it makes Fenris smile.

Pulling Marius’s hand away from his mouth, Fenris twines their fingers together. “Oh yes, _ quite aware.” _ Smiling, Marius kisses him hard and Fenris hooks a leg around his thigh, pulling Marius’s hips downward as he lifts his own.

The heat between their bodies, the friction, the sounds they make against one another’s mouths... all of Fenris’s longing could never paint a perfect recollection of what he so missed, what he is so lucky to have again. Marius moves away after a moment, but Fenris does not want to give a voice to his trepidation and bites his tongue, staring up at the canopy of the bed. The soft wooden grind of a drawer opening and closing sounds in the room. Fenris’s heart quickens, then Marius reappears to kiss him briefly. He’s on his knees beside Fenris, and Fenris reaches out a hand to trail his fingers through the fine blond hair coating Marius’s thigh. He moves his hand to the side, rubbing the back of his hand up Marius’s hardened length, catching a bead of precum upon a knuckle as he brushes against the weeping pink head.

A choked-off sound leaves Marius’s throat, and his eyelids become heavy. “You’re all right?” he still asks. The repeat of the question makes Fenris feel a bit fragile, but he knows exactly why Marius checks in with him, why he deems it so damn necessary.

Fenris nods, swallows thickly. _ “Yes.” _He grips Marius’s cock and gives it a few slow strokes. Marius immediately leans over Fenris’s body to kiss his chest, his stomach - careful that his lips don’t give more than the barest whisper of touch against Fenris’s markings. When he reaches the narrow path to Fenris’s groin that those tattoos create, Marius lingers; brushes his nose along the “v” of Fenris’s hip. The prick of the stubble on his chin is barely a distraction when Marius begins lightly dragging his lips along Fenris’s cock. The tease is fleeting, Marius skillfully taking Fenris into his mouth without the aid of his hands.

It should be expected, the sudden burst of warm, wet pleasure, but Fenris arches his back off the bed, hissing Marius’s name. It only urges the man on as he finally brings one of his hands into play, sliding fingers around the saliva-slickened base of Fenris’s length to meet the enthusiastic bob of his head. Fenris’s fingers move of their own volition to alternate between tugging and petting Marius’s hair.

Soon, Marius lies flat on his stomach, thighs spreading so he can rut properly against the mattress tick. Fenris cannot look away from the mesmerising sight. His blunt nails scratch across Marius’s freckled shoulders and they both groan when Marius dips his hips a little deeper into the now-rumpled bedclothes. Watching the flex and ripple of muscles in Marius’s back and ass, the feeling of him swallowing around his cock - it very nearly becomes too much. He gently nudges Marius’s jaw upwards. When Marius pulls off of him, he is breathless. Little pants escape passed dark pink lips, glossy and swollen from his recent task.

“This is enough, Fenris.” Marius squeezes Fenris’s thigh, kisses his navel. “We don’t have to do more than this.”

“I… I want _ more of you,” _Fenris assures him.

Marius looks away, seemingly in thought, then cracks a lopsided grin at Fenris. “C’mere,” he beckons as he lifts up onto his knees once more. He helps Fenris sit up, and Fenris watches him arrange pillows against the headboard with some sort of silent strategy in his expression. Fenris, in his curious impatience, crawls over to Marius, and is pulled into his arms. Marius cradles Fenris’s face in both hands, bringing their lips together. This time, it’s more heated, wonderfully messy. Marius swirls his tongue around Fenris’s, making him moan. Their breaths come out rough and stuttered through their noses as Marius pulls Fenris with him towards the pillows, mouths only breaking the kiss to nip and lick as Marius lies back.

For a moment, Fenris is confused. It should be him caging Marius with his thighs, not the other way around, should it not? Even so, he drapes himself over his lover, seeking his kiss again, but Marius bumps their foreheads together instead. “Fenris…” His hands rake through Fenris’s hair, brushing it behind the long points of his ears. “I want you…”

Fenris gives a playful roll of his hips, slotting their cocks together. Marius grunts softly, holding the back of Fenris head like he’s some precious thing instead of a poisoned blade. “And I want you, as well,” Fenris says.

Marius reaches over to his bedside table, grabs something from it. Ah, that must have been what he’d retrieved from the drawer earlier - a teardrop-shaped vial. A viscous, pale yellow oil coats the sides of the glass as Marius brings it between them. Fenris shifts back to his knees with the thought that he still knows how this will go, based off all his past experience. But Marius surprises him, uncorks the vial, takes Fenris’s hand and pours a bit of oil over his fingers.

When Fenris looks up at him, Marius says, “I want _ you, _Fenris, and I want to give myself to you, in turn. Do you understand?”

Marius’s meaning immediately dawns on him, and Fenris understands with perfect clarity, cock twitching at the thought. In answer, he kisses Marius passionately, and Marius guides Fenris’s hand downward over his sac, to the soft skin leading to the puckered flesh of his entrance. It is Fenris who lets out a pleased sound first, letting Marius press his fingers forward gently to tease his rim. He listens to every sigh, moan, and eager direction Marius gives him until he’s fucking him open with his fingers, slow and deliberate.

When Fenris is finally pushing into the heat of Marius’s body, transitory seconds pass where he knows the freedom and ownership of himself that he was refused most of his life. In each movement he makes with Marius, the millstone he’s carried upon his shoulders falls away. Marius’s hands roam every inch of him, and it’s like he is peeling back that damaged, black shell Danarius plastered him with. He is plucking broken wings from his back, gilding the crags lacerating his soul.

Marius gasps and reaches back to grip the headboard, knuckles paling as Fenris grinds his hips forward with short, deep thrusts. This is nothing like before, it’s more... it is… _ immeasurable. _Fenris bends forward with a whimper, bringing the lines of their bodies together like the sky meeting its horizon after a dawn apart.

A warm hand at his nape, quick breaths in his ear, a reverent, open-mouthed kiss against his neck, his cheek. _ “This is love, Fenris…” _ Marius breathes. _ “This is love.” _

It is simplicity, unshackled. It is love, whole.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, kudos, & feedback are my fuel and ever appreciated<3  
Find me on tumblr @thefire-in-the-nightsky & Twitter @oh_amatus!


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